by Ranae Rose
Biting back a sigh, he strolled around the back of the restaurant, where there was a bench. He’d sit and wait for her to walk out. Hopefully the element of surprise would help him sweep her off her feet, or whatever the saying was.
He hadn’t even taken a seat when he saw something that made his gut churn – an open door. It led into the kitchen, and from outside, he could see the gleam of polished surfaces, the shine of fluorescent lighting reflecting off a hanging skillet.
What the hell? There was a murderer on the loose and she’d just left the backdoor open? Anyone – absolutely anyone – could’ve crept right in and hurt or killed her before she’d even realized they’d entered the building. And whatever happened in the kitchen could possibly go unnoticed by the rest of the restaurant staff and guests for a few minutes.
At the thought, his blood started to boil. It was a fucking travesty that Riley’s PERT squad hadn’t been deployed to search for Randy Levinson. If they had, maybe they’d already have caught him and people in Riley County wouldn’t have to worry about things like leaving curtains and doors open and—
“Oh sweet Jesus!” A short, dark-haired woman in a chef coat walked out the open back door and nearly collided with Henry. With one hand clasped against her chest, she looked up at him with wide eyes. “You scared the hell outta me!”
Henry frowned. “You should keep that door shut. Anyone could’ve walked in.”
“The AC’s on the fritz,” she said, looking him up and down, her gaze settling on his badge. “It’s either leave the door open or roast to death – I’ll take my chances with the open door. Is something wrong?”
“I was trying to surprise Sasha.”
“Well, you certainly surprised me. Let me guess … you’re Henry.”
He nodded. Sasha had been talking about him? He couldn’t say he was surprised, exactly, though an uneasy feeling struck him as he wondered what exactly she’d said.
“She’ll be out in a minute. Want me to tell her you’re here?”
“Who’s here?” Sasha popped her head through the open doorway, her golden hair tied up in a bun. She only wore it that way when she was cooking, and though her hair looked gorgeous down, the sight of her bare neck was also beautiful. “Henry!”
She stepped outside, wearing a chef coat just like the other woman’s. There was a red sauce stain over one of her breasts, and a little flour on her pants. The sight of her black eye horrified him all over again, though she’d made it look less dramatic with makeup. “I had no idea you were coming here. I didn’t think you’d ever see me like this.”
“I don’t mind seeing you a little dirty,” he said, tempted to smile despite his guilt. She looked amazing, even in clothes that showed how hard she’d been working, and she was actually grinning at him.
“Thanks, but when I said ‘like this’, I meant in my Crocs.” She looked down at her feet, which were clad in bright red rubber shoes. “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable they are.”
A drop of dampness hit his cheek, then another, as it finally began to rain. “Are you done with your work day?”
She nodded, then tipped her head toward the other woman. “Like I said this morning, I head home early today. My sous-chef Francesca will handle things for the rest of the evening.”
“I was thinking we could do something together.”
She arched a brow. “Like what?”
Thank God, it was raining, so he didn’t have to worry about her wanting to do something outdoors, like hit the beach. He didn’t want to parade around a public place right now – all he wanted was to get her inside, with him, where it was safe. Maybe then the awful feeling crawling beneath the surface of his skin would go away.
“I was thinking I could try to redeem myself for last night’s dinner. Thought you might like a break from cooking.”
Of course, she had no reason to believe he could whip up an edible meal, but he sure as hell would try if she’d give him another chance.
He didn’t want to risk public exposure at a restaurant, given the current circumstances. He needed to get her to a controlled environment – a safe one. No one knew where Randy Levinson was or what stunt he was planning next.
The way he’d strung up the warden proved that he was out to make scenes and statements. Any one of the relatively few businesses in Riley County could be the stage for his next crime.
“Should we stop by Piggly Wiggly for some more ranch dressing on the way?”
He winced. “I was going to stop to pick up a few things for dinner. No ranch though. I promise.”
Suddenly, he could feel the sous-chef’s gaze boring into his back. After this, who knew what she and Sasha would talk about next time they saw each other and he wasn’t there.
“Well, I never turn down a meal I don’t have to cook, especially when the chef has the physique of an underwear model.” She grinned. “I’ll go home and change, then head to your place?”
Henry pretended not to hear Francesca snort.
“Don’t feel like you have to make an unnecessary trip home. The dress code is anything but formal.”
Sasha’s eyes glittered, and he knew she knew he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
“Henry,” she said, “I don’t like to live my life boxed in by a bunch of rules. But I do have a few, and one of them is that I don’t try to seduce men in these shoes.”
Well, it’d been worth a try.
“I’m about to head home – swinging by Piggly Wiggly will only take me a few minutes. See you at my place in a little while?”
She agreed and after she said goodbye to Francesca, they left the restaurant together, walking side by side in the light rain.
“I know exactly what you’re up to,” she said when they were out of Francesca’s earshot. “You’re trying to keep me close so you can rescue me if something crazy happens.”
Since she was right, there was no need for him to say anything.
“You’re lucky you look so good in that uniform – it makes it awfully hard to say no to you. In case you haven’t noticed though, we’ve been fine these past few days. Better than fine, if you ask me.”
“Yeah. I just … have a feeling.”
Surprisingly, she was quiet for a few seconds. “What kind of feeling?” she eventually asked.
“Like something bad is going to happen.” More like that at any second, something huge and unseen might drop out of the sky and swallow up the sun, leaving him in fathomless darkness.
A darkness he’d gotten lost in before, and never wanted to experience again.
Sasha stopped walking, looked up and met his eyes. She was no longer smiling. “To you?”
The wariness he saw in her eyes caught him off guard. “Maybe. I don’t know. I can take care of myself though – it’s you I’m worried about.”
He had an innate ability to survive, even when he didn’t deserve to. As long as he took reasonable precautions, he’d be okay. Sasha was the important thing, the one he had to look out for. Because if he faced death again and had to walk away without someone he cared about, that would be it – all he could bear to take.
A part of him had wished for the desert floor to open up and swallow him the first time, to split along a crack and pull him down into dust and darkness.
He didn’t know what the next life had to offer, if it was even a life at all, but he was damned sure it had to be better than what he’d have to live with if a shitbag like Randy Levinson got his hands on Sasha. Watching men who’d signed up to sacrifice everything if necessary die had been bitter enough – seeing someone like Sasha torn from this world by needless violence would be even worse.
“Well if it makes you feel any better,” she eventually said, “I’ve got my Shun on me.”
He eyed her sideways, scanning her silhouette for any signs of a knife as they started walking again.
“Right now?” She had enough curves to distract the eye from an entire arsenal – it was no use trying to locate the sin
gle weapon by sight alone.
“Yep.”
Henry groaned. “I still need to take you to the shooting range. Maybe that’s what we should do today.”
“You promised me dinner.”
He wanted to say he’d take her after they ate, but knew the range would be closed by then. “I can’t believe you think you need to carry a weapon and all you’ve got is a kitchen knife.”
She sighed. “I hope you never have to see what I could do to a man with this thing, because it wouldn’t be pretty.”
She sounded like she meant it, which didn’t bode well for him talking her into learning how to use a gun. He didn’t bother telling her that she’d likely end up dead if an assailant like Randy Levinson got close enough for her to actually cut. He’d said it all before, and she was headstrong, to say the least.
When they parted in the parking lot, he reluctantly watched her climb into her car and then got into his own truck. She pulled out into the drive first, and he followed, giving the plantation house a last look in the rearview mirror.
There was only one person outside – a woman in a white dress, standing on the lawn. It was raining more heavily now, but he could see that she was dark haired and not using an umbrella or wearing a hat.
A little weird, but she did appear to be moving toward the house. Probably a guest who’d gotten caught in the rain. Henry returned his attention to Sasha, who’d slowed to pass the gate and its little speed bump. When he glanced in his mirror again, the woman was already gone.
CHAPTER 19
Randy was soaked to the bone when he got back to the trailer, where the only vehicle was Joseph Reynolds’ old jalopy.
Some of the tension drained out of his sore muscles as he hurried inside, but the relief was short-lived. On one hand, it was lucky Sean wasn’t back yet. Randy had counted on him being back, had hidden the shovel in the woods instead of carrying it with him. Now he had a chance to get cleaned up, avoid awkward questions.
On the other hand, though … where the fuck was Sean?
Nightmare scenarios raced through Randy’s head, ones where the police pulled into the driveway instead of Sean. Lights flashing, guns drawn, ready to end Randy’s revenge spree when it’d barely begun.
He stomped back to the bathroom, stripped out of his wet clothes and toweled off. He only had one other outfit, and he pulled it on as quickly as he could. Still, even when he was finished, he was alone.
Part of him wanted to grab the Blaser and run back out into the woods. He’d seen on the news that there was a hurricane flirting with the East Coast further south though, creeping up on Florida and threatening to sweep the Carolina coast. If things got serious, he didn’t want to be caught living rough in the woods.
Swearing, he sank into the arm chair. Why the hell hadn’t he offed Sean in the first place? Stupid decision not to. Letting him live was more of a risk than having to dispose of the body. Besides, he’d found a decent place where he could do just that without having to drive anywhere.
He’d barely sat down when the sound of a motor made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Leaping out of the chair, he hurried to the window and lifted the corner of the curtain.
It was Sean. He pulled his rustbucket into the driveway, then stepped out cradling a huge bag of fast food against his chest.
He wasn’t alone.
“God damn it all!” Randy pounded his fist against the wall.
A girl climbed out of the passenger seat, a knocked-up brunette who waddled through the gravel, her belly sticking out in front of the rest of her by about a foot, stretching the waistband of her sweatpants.
Randy waited for Sean to lay a hand on the doorknob, then swung the door open. “The hell’s goin’ on?” he asked as soon as they were both inside.
The girl gave him a look that was half sour and half fearful.
Randy slammed the door shut before she or Sean could go anywhere.
“This is Chloe,” he said. “She’s my girl. I’m gonna ask my old man if she can crash here with me for a while. We didn’t get to see each other much for a few months, but we’re back together now.”
The girl smiled and grasped Sean’s skinny little hand.
Randy felt himself teetering on the edge of an aneurysm.
“Don’t worry about her man,” Sean said. “She’s cool. I told her about our arrangement.”
Randy had to restrain himself from choking the life out of Sean right then and there. But then, the grave he’d dug in the woods was shallow and had only been meant for one person. And now that the girl was here, there was no question of letting her waddle away to tattle on him.
And that didn’t leave him with very many choices.
* * * * *
15 Years Ago
Randy raised his rifle, taking aim at a squirrel hanging off the side of a struggling pine. Not much meat on those bones, but they’d been waiting a hell of a long time for something better to come along.
Seemed like they’d been waiting forever. Maybe it was too hot even for the animals. This was their usual hunting spot, and not a single deer or rabbit had crossed their path. Randy shifted where he lay on a carpet of shed pine needles, itching all over.
“I fucking hate this place,” Troy said. He was 15 and when he and Randy were out in the woods, he used language that would’ve earned him an asskicking at home. “And I fucking hate dad. He’s such an asshole.”
Randy could hear the quiver in his brother’s voice – the fear.
“I know,” he answered, picking a daddy longlegs off his boot and crushing it with the butt of his rifle.
“I mean, why couldn’t he have just gotten shot at work or something? Mama told me that if he ever died with his uniform on, we’d get a lotta money from the insurance company. Instead he just went and got himself fired, and now we ain’t got shit.”
It wasn’t like they’d ever had much in the first place. Their old man had spent damn near every dime the Hamlin County Sheriff’s Department had paid him at the liquor store. But yeah, things were even worse now – had been since their father had been forced to turn in his badge.
There weren’t two nickels in the whole house they could rub together. Their old man was always bumming liquor money from people who weren’t his friends anymore. Randy couldn’t show his face in town without people givin’ him dirty looks and reminding him that his daddy owed them.
It was damn near unbearable. Just like the heat and humidity of the woods – the ever-creeping spiders – it was too much to take.
“I tell you one thing,” Randy said. “Even if there’s no insurance money, I’d like it better if he was dead. No more gettin’ our asses beat. No more sittin’ out in these sorry woods and bein’ eaten alive by mosquitos.”
“Yeah.” Troy’s head bobbed as he turned, laying down his rifle and reaching for the ratty old backpack they’d packed water and a few peanut butter sandwiches into. “Hey…”
Troy rummaged down to the bottom of the pack and pulled out a bottle.
“The hell did you get your hands on that?” It was one of their daddy’s liquor bottles, about half full.
Troy shrugged. “I saw mama take it while he was passed out, put it in the trash. Figured he’d beat her black and blue if he found it in there, so I figured I’d do her a favor.”
Randy didn’t reveal how surprised he was that his little brother had worked up the balls to steal their daddy’s liquor, even if their mother had thrown it away. Instead, he shook his head. “Don’t see why you wanna risk your own ass to do her any favors. She never says a damn word when he beats us.”
Troy froze like a deer in headlights. “You know it wouldn’t make no difference. He’d just beat her too.”
Randy didn’t say anything, just watched his brother open the bottle and take a short drink that ended in sputtering.
As Troy coughed, Randy snatched the bottle from his hand and tipped it back, choking down a long pull. It tasted like gasoline smelled, but he managed n
ot to spit it out or cough.
“You know,” he said as the liquor burnt in the pit of his stomach. “This shit is flammable as all get out. You soak a piece of wood in this and set a match to it—” he snapped his fingers “—it’s up in flames, just like that.”
Troy shook his head. “It’s hot enough out here without a fire.”
“Yeah, well I wasn’t thinkin’ about starting a fire out here. I was thinkin’ closer to home.”
With the god-awful liquor burning in his gut, he felt like he could say things he normally didn’t dare speak out loud. Things that had churned in the back of his mind and tied his tongue in knots, ‘til now.
What did it matter anyway? There was no one out here but them, and Troy would probably shit himself at just the thought of telling their father what Randy was about to say.
“What d’you mean?” Troy’s mouth hung open.
“I mean that if we waited ‘til dad was passed out and dumped all his liquor out in the house, then dropped a match, we’d never have to worry about gettin’ our asses beat again. You know he sleeps like the dead after a bender. Me, you and mama could run before the fire got too bad. She’d never know we started it, and I bet she wouldn’t tell no one, even if she did.”
Troy frowned. “Shit Randy, you talkin’ about killing our old man?”
Randy spit into the pine needles. Why was Troy so weak? There was no reason why they should have to put up with what they did. If they had the balls, they could put an end to it all.
“So what if I am?” he said, making his voice hard, staring straight into Troy’s eyes.
When his little brother finally answered, he sounded different than he had a minute ago. Different than he ever had before.
“I just don’t see why you’d use liquor is all. Seems like we’d need a hell of a lot of it, and gasoline would be cheaper. Or kerosene. We got some of that out in the shed.”
* * * * *
The rain beat down on the trailer, and for a second, the water hitting the roof sounded just like the splash of fuel against floorboards. Randy looked Sean and Chloe each in the eye and didn’t flinch.